CSI-286 Days
by Calim1
Summary: Grissom plus feelings equals distortion in time and space. (Takes place after we know about GSR - One-shot – Told from Grissom's POV – Don't assume anything.)


_Howdy! This story has been gestating for a while and, since CSI Forever Online is getting ready to begin nominations for their annual fanfic awards, I thought I'd better put something in place to qualify._

_This is solely from Grissom's POV and could be considered an AU (alternate universe/timeline) piece but might be able to fit within/during Season 6 or 7._

_DO NOT ASSUME ANYTHING. _

_I shall repeat that._

_DO NOT ASSUME ANYTHING. _

_Enough said. I hope you enjoy and review._

_Onward ~  
_

* * *

**CSI – 286 Days **

by Susan Dietz (Calim 11)  
Rating: PG-13 (some language)  
Category: GG SS DRA AU  
Summary: Grissom + feelings = distortion in time and space. _(Takes place after we know about GSR - One-shot – Told from Grissom's POV – Don't assume anything.)_

_© July 2014_

_Feedback is appreciated_

_Disclaimer: The characters and general situations in this story are the property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer, however I reserve the rights to the specific details. It is not my intention to infringe upon their rights; this story is purely for the enjoyment of fans. Please do not redistribute in any form_

* * *

I've done it now.

Sara found out about my appointment with Doctor Haver. With the heart specialist Doctor Haver. And, boy, am I in trouble.

My statement of 'I didn't want to burden you' turned into a 'we're in a relationship so I expect to be burdened with issues like that' speech along with an icy glare, talking to me only when necessary and anger oozing out of every pore.

I'd wanted to tell her. I'd wanted to share my misgivings and fear but I was afraid. Yes, afraid she'd finally see me for what I am - 15 years her senior with a possible bum ticker. And once she figured that out I'd be 15 years older with a bum ticker and alone.

I didn't really want to be alone anymore.

"Sara," I call following after her as she heads toward our newest crime scene, a crumpled bus. She doesn't turn. "Sara," I call again moving from a walk to a jog as the heavy rain smacks against my face.

There's a flare, a spark of color that stands out for a brief second over her shoulder as she steps out of my eye line. I see it but am intent on catching her and it doesn't register. Stumbling as I slip on the side of a rock, I wobble then right myself just as a vast overpowering sound erupts in front of me. My head snaps up, alighting on the bus. A huge fireball careens throughout the interior, exploding outward through every last section of the vehicle, tearing off pieces of metal and tossing them out like shrapnel.

My heart drops to my feet and I open my mouth to shout Sara's name when the blast wave racing outward plows into me, ripping away any air from my lungs and hoists me into the air. I don't know how far I fly but the landing is hard and my head smacks against the wet ground before I roll into and suddenly stop against something solid. Barely holding onto my wits, I manage to open my eyes, blurry vision taking in the angry fire still raging, the rain having no effect on dousing its power. People are running about trying to help and I can't see Sara anywhere.

She'd been closer to the bus than I'd been.

I'd lost sight of her just before the explosion.

She'd been just in front of me.

"No," tumbles out of me and I struggle to move, hands slipping in the mud.

I have to find her. Have to see if she's all right. It doesn't matter that she was in front of me. She was below the explosion. She's fine. Everything will be fine.

Then people are surrounding me, holding me down. Warrick is there. I want to shout 'go find Sara' but nothing comes out. Nothing but a whimper and a moan and then nothing as I stare up at the falling rain just before my world goes dark.

**CSICSICSI**

A loud, blaring sound breaks into my sleep and I groan, a vague question wafting through my head of why there would be an alarm clock in the hospital. Movement next to me and the silencing of the alarm prompts me to pry open one eye then the other when I recognize my own bedroom. The dark haired woman beside me gets silently out of bed and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

I frown.

_ "Welcome to almost the end of April 23rd Vegas peeps," _comes a voice from the clock radio_. "Temperatures have dropped to a chilly 49 degrees and a gully-washer of a rainstorm is in the forecast for 1am. Spring has sprung, my friends. A little late, but it's finally here."_

I stare at the radio.

10:30pm.

The end of April 23.

An hour and a half before shift starts.

Three hours before the bus . . .

What the . . .?

The bathroom door opens and I watch Sara pull her hair into a ponytail and leave the room, never looking back. Man. I can feel the scorch marks across my body. I've always hated it when she's mad at me because I feel defenseless. Normally, I don't know why she's mad but today I know or knew or . . .

I rub at my face.

What the hell's going on? This should be the 24th and I should be in the hospital mourning my loss or dead on a slab at the morgue with Al staring down at me. Maybe it was all a dream. It's not the first time I've dreamt of losing Sara, whether it's her walking away or killed by a drunk driver or shot by someone we've been chasing.

This can't be happening.

Logically, rationally this '_shouldn't_ be happening.

Tossing back the covers, my legs move over the side and I push myself up in hopes of talking to her before she leaves . . . Ah, there's the door. Too late. That should be my middle name. I always seem to be too late.

I glance at the clock. It's only 10:45pm. I remember glancing at the clock before, standing here in my boxers and t-shirt debating with myself about following after her or waiting, give her time to cool off.

I waited then.

I'm not waiting now.

Pawing through the closet and grabbing whatever, I hastily dress and launch myself through the door and into the car. It takes me less than fifteen minutes to hurry through the lab doors and search her out.

"Dr. Grissom," comes from Judy as it does every night.

Quickly nodding, I move on noticing Bobby giving me a wave followed by Hodges then Jacqui. Just like before. Peeking in every lab, room and office there's no Sara. The locker room is empty. The break room quiet.

Where is she?

"What are you doing here so early?" comes Catherine's voice behind me.

"Have you seen Sara?" I ask without preamble.

"She's down in the mor . . ."

I'm gone before she finishes.

Hurrying through the halls and down the steps I can't help wishing that this is all a dream. That soon I'll wake and tell Sara that eating Thai right before a fight isn't such a good idea.

There she is in deep conversation with Al. Usually I'd wait until she's done. I'm sorry but my mental stability is a bit more important than a case. I barrel through the door.

"Sara, may I speak with you?" I hastily ask not moving from the door. She doesn't even glance up. "Sara?"

Al looks at me then her then excuses himself and disappears into his office. I watch his door shut then step slowly toward her fully expecting her to tear me a new one. Instead she clutches the side of the table and waits. I decide to take up space opposite her.

"You left before I could . . . I wanted to talk to you, to explain."

"Explain what?" she asks, looking up at me. "Explain how you kept from me something extremely important? Explain how you don't seem to understand that two people together need to communicate?"

"Sara, I wanted to tell you but . . ."

"But what?"

I wince. "It's difficult to admit my shortcomings."

She frowns at me. "What shortcomings?"

"I-I don't want . . . You shouldn't have to . . ." I stammer to a stop.

"I shouldn't have to what?"

She's staring at me. That look freezes me every time. Now she's shaking her head.

"I don't hear an explanation and I don't have time to wait." She lets go of the table, strips off her gloves and heads toward the swinging door.

I, of course, stare after her. I did that last time. This time I rush out the door, grab her arm and spin her around.

"I was scared okay," I admit. "I was scared you'd leave if I told you I was having heart problems."

She shrugs my hand off her arm. "Where do you get this stuff?" she asks. "I love you, Gil. I won't leave you over that. If anything it would make me more solicitous. I might leave you if you keep things from me. Remember that for next time."

And off she goes leaving me to stand in the hall. This is how it happened before with only slight variations but the same outcome - she walked away and I stood here. And I'm still standing here mostly because I can't believe this is happening again.

A definite tick is heard and I look up at the clock on the wall. It's 12:30am. How have I been here for an hour and a half?

Wait. It's 12:30am. The bus call is about to come in.

I can't let her go.

I won't let her go.

She'll stay here if I have to tie her to a chair!

I run up the hall and . . . the accident scene spreads out before me.

Sliding to a stop, I turn at the sound of slamming doors. Nick and Warrick are piling out of their SUV and Sara is coming out the back. She sees me, I know she does, but doesn't look at me and starts off toward the bus.

"Sara!" I call out just as before. She ignores me just as before. I run towards her. "Sara!"

She stops then turns. Hope fills me. This is new.

The rain is slapping me in the face as I hurry toward her, hoping to catch her before I see the spark. But I don't. The bus blows up and I'm hoisted into the air to land with a thud and roll through the mud into something solid.

It happened again.

Christ! It happened again.

But this time I saw the flames take her and couldn't do a thing. All that's left for me is the sound of running feet, Warrick's worried face and shouted voices just before I pass out.

**CSICSICSI**

A loud, blaring sound breaks into my sleep and I groan, a vague question wafting through my head of why there would be an alarm clock in the hospi . . .

My eyes pop open and my breath catches. There's movement next to me then the alarm silences, then Sara's getting out of bed and heading toward the bathroom.

_ "Welcome to almost the end of April 23rd Vegas peeps." _

What the fuck?

_ "Temperatures have dropped to a chilly 49 degrees and a gully-washer of a rainstorm is in the forecast for 1am. Spring has sprung, my friends. A little late, but it's finally here."_

I stare at the radio.

I stare at Sara coming out of the bathroom putting her hair into a ponytail and disappearing out the door.

I stare at the bedroom door then hear the front door opening and closing

I fall back and stare at the ceiling.

Holy shit! I'm in Groundhog Day.*

"God, help me."

**CSICSICSI**

And He didn't.

Not that I really expected it.

I've been living the same horrendous day now for, what is it? Ah, 286 times. I'd stopped counting at 10, then at 50. 100 came and went yet still I counted. I thought I would've gotten it right by now.

I haven't.

I gave up and stopped going to the scene but this whacked out time loop won't have it. No matter how far away I go I always end up back there, back in front of that damn bus.

I've seen her die 286 times . . . and it hurt every single goddamned time.

I've tried everything - keeping her in bed, taking her car keys. literally tying her to a chair. I tried locking her in the morgue, in the bathroom. I even tried to get Ecklie to suspend her. I've taken sleeping pills, popping them as soon as she leaves, thinking if I'm not awake it won't happen. My eyes open to stare at that damn bus. As soon as she leaves I drive in a different direction. Drive and drive only to turn a corner and find myself staring at that same awful bus. I've hit the ground 286 times, stared up at Warrick 286 times, failed 286 times.

So I killed myself. I took my gun and blew my head off.

My eyes opened to the fucking radio playing _"Welcome to almost the end of April 23rd Vegas peeps." _

I'm going crazy.

I've gone crazy.

I'm numb, broken, dead to the world, destined to endure because there _IS NO OUT_!. If I wasn't covered in skin I'd shatter into a million pieces.

Somebody! Somebody please help me!

Anybody!

I DON'T CARE WHO, JUST HELP ME STOP THIS INSANITY!

**CSICSICSI**

"Wake up, Gil."

The voice is soothing and deep and it doesn't occur to me to ignore it. My eyes slowly open and settle on a man reclining at the foot of my bed. Quickly, I sit up and hastily press myself against the headboard, my heart fluttering away in my chest. Glancing to my right, Sara is asleep next to me. I look up at the clock - 10:29pm.

10:29pm not 10:30pm.

My eyes fall back on the man.

"You called. I came," he says with a smile. "Apparently, I was the only one listening." I just stare at him. "You," he says pointing at me, "called," he adds wiggling his thumb near his ear and his pinky at his mouth. He then points to himself. "I came."

My mouth opens then closes as the meaning behind his words slowly sink in to my addled brain.

Did it work?

Is that Him sitting there?

I want to shout 'you took you're damn time about it' but figured that wasn't a very good idea. Instead, I decide to take a better look at him.

He has a handsome face with fiery amber eyes and thick dark hair sneaking out from under a red bandana. Dressed in ripped jeans and a well-worn leather jacket, I can see a Grateful Dead t-shirt that's seen better days underneath. There should be a biker's helmet somewhere and there it is on the chair by the door.

He doesn't fit the depictions. But then what does?

I clear my throat. "You . . . you're . . ." What _do_ I call Him?

"I've always liked Son of the Morning," he interrupts, "but Great Dragon is good, too."

Ah . . . Uh oh.

His eyes twinkle at my obvious unease. "But you may call me Luce."

Then his smile widens and I'm struck at how much that calms me. Crazy or not I should be terrified. Beelzebub himself is sitting on my bed talking to me. I can reach out and touch him, could almost certainly push him off the bed, although I'm positive that would _NOT_ be a good idea.

"I probably don't need to remind you that you asked for help and didn't much care from whence it came. I try not to pass up such an opportunity if I can help it. And you, Dr. Gil Grissom, are an opportunity worth taking."

I pull my knees to my chest and wrap arms about them as if that will protect my soul. He has a point though. I did ask for help. I should learn to be more specific.

"What do I need to do?" I ask.

Brows rise. "Straightforward. I like that. A man of decision."

"Not always," I counter.

"But when it counts, there you are," he tries.

My eyes stray toward my bedmate. "Not always," I repeat before glancing back.

Turning his gaze onto Sara, his face softens. "Ah, yes. The heart thing. You really screwed up there, Gil, but I'm sure you already know that. All you had to do was confide in her and I wouldn't be here. But you _are_ stubborn. Good thing for you I like stubborn."

I close my eyes and sigh. "Just tell me what I need to do to save her then I'll go with you freely."

"Wow," he says and I open my eyes to see him tapping his chin.

"What's the matter?" I ask.

"Well, you've thrown me a bit, Gil. Give me a moment."

Hmm. I never thought an entity in his position could be thrown.

"Okay, I'm better now." He shakes a finger at me. "You will be a fine, fine addition to my guests. I can tell already." He giggles. Oh, boy. "This is a big decision, Gil, selling your soul. It's an everlasting deal that doesn't have a get out of jail free card. There's no reneging, no trading places with some other poor unfortunate. Once you're in, once you sign on the dotted line, that's it for all eternity."

"I know."

"But that's a big commitment and, from what I've seen, you're sort of a commitment-phobe." I glare at him and he holds up his hands. "Okay, okay."

Reaching into his jacket, he pulls out a roll of parchment, holds one end and lets the rest of it roll off the bed. I watch as it comes to a stop halfway across the room. Turning back to him, I find him smirking at me.

"I have a lot of lawyers at my beck and call and they've covered every loophole, hence the length of this contract. E-v-e-r-y l-o-o-p-h-o-l-e," he says pronouncing each and every syllable. "So, are we a go?"

I look back at Sara. This is it. If I sign I'll never be able to touch her again, to hold her, make love to her for fear that he'll come calling. I'll have to leave because I can't stay here and not be with her.

I run hands through my hair. What if there's one thing I haven't tried, something I've missed, something that's right in front of my face? Don't I owe it to her to keep trying? But I'm worn out. My brain has been run ragged trying to find the answer. I literally have nothing left to give.

Except this.

"Where do I sign?" I ask as a pen magically appears in my hand.

"By signing this contract, your soul is mine," he reminds me.

"Yes, I know," I answer pulling the parchment toward me, trying to read the tiny print.

"You won't have to watch Sara die anymore."

"That is the plan."

"She'll live a long and mostly happy life."

I frown. "Mostly happy?" I ask looking up at him.

"Well, how happy do you think she'll be when you disappear from her life?" My eyes widen a bit. "Eavesdropping is one of my favorite past times," he admits with a grin then continues. "Sara loves you, for whatever reason, and when you're no longer there she'll always wonder if she drove you away."

"She didn't drive me away," I say defensively, glaring at him.

"But that's what she'll think."

"Well, can't you stage my death or something so she doesn't have to worry about that?" I suggest.

"Of course I can," he says with a roll of the eyes.

"Well then?"

"That's too easy," he answers with a wave of his hand. "Why would I want to let her off the hook like that?"

"She's not on the hook," I remind him. "I am."

He gives me a slight shake of his head. "Please, Gil, you know who I am. I love torment and angst. It's what I live for. If you die, where's my joy?"

"God," I say with a heavy sigh.

"No, He didn't answer your call," he says with a lopsided grin.

I can't really argue with that so return my gaze to the parchment.

All eternity, that's what I'll be signing up for. All eternity in Hell under the Devil's thumb doing whatever he wants. Voluntarily. I rub my forehead.

"You're vacillating," he says. "Don't you want to save her?"

My hand drops from my forehead. "Of course I do. I love her."

"Have you ever told her that?"

"I . . . " Well, that brings me to a stop. "Not in those exact words but in actions, yes," I state.

"Tut, tut, Gil. Actions are dandy but those three words seal the deal. I LOVE YOU - the most hotly contested words in all languages filled with multiple layers of meaning. They can hurt you, make your day and haunt you until the end of time. They are not easy words nor can they be taken back once said. They have a power far greater than I have, I hate to admit, and have gotten in my way innumerable times." He grins and stares at me. "But you, Gil, are different. You cannot make yourself do what isn't in you."

That ticks me off. "And that would be?" I ask knowing in the back of my head that getting mad at him won't mean a thing.

"Why courage, Gil," he says as if the world knows that. "You haven't the courage to open yourself _to_ those words, _to_ that power. That's why _you_ are a prime candidate for my roster. I welcome you with open arms."

His smile settles over me and it _is_ very welcoming. I shake my head.

"And if I don't sign?"

A baffled look appears. "Then you would be right where you are now – stuck in limbo, watching Sara die far longer than 286 times. You haven't the staying power for that."

Now I'm pissed. Before I yell obscenities at him and get myself torched I have to think on why that hit me sideways. Could it be because he's touched on something I've thought about before or the fact that he thinks I'm a coward, that I'm not good enough for anything else but Hell.

Well, I'll show him.

I drag up all of the parchment and rip it in half, tossing the pieces at him. The pen follows after, bouncing off a skull pin on his jacket.

"Go to hell." Seems appropriate.

"What's this?" he asks, apparent shock on his face.

"I've changed my mind." Oh, I feel confident.

"Ah," he says, slowly picking up the pieces. "Well, here's the thing. You can't."

I narrow my eyes. "Why? I haven't signed anything."

"But you have," he says throwing the pieces up in the air to fizzle out of sight.

Reaching into his jacket once again he brings out another parchment. Flipping it out on the bed, the end rolls toward me, the last section stopping at my feet and clearly showing my signature at the bottom.

My jaw clenches. "I didn't sign that."

"Yeah. I forgot to tell you once you touch it, it's considered signed. Sneaky, I know, but then who am I?" he offers with a slight chuckle. Rolling up the contract he slips it back into his jacket. "You're mine now, Gilbert."

"I'll fight you every step of the way."

"And I'll enjoy every minute of it, especially the part where I threaten Sara every step of the way. Is that what you want?"

Looking back on her sleeping form, I know I haven't a choice. Slowly, I shake my head.

"Hmm," he begins which draws my attention back to him. "I believe I've made a mistake, Gil."

I'm not really interested but ask anyway. "How so?"

"It would appear there is a courageous fellow trapped inside there," he says waggling a finger at me, "who's willing to spend forever in a dark, dank place just to make her happy."

"What of it?" Now I'm just depressed and cranky.

"It's putting me into an uncharacteristic mood of giving you one last chance to make things right." I perk up. "I should probably look further into that but . . ." He throws his hands up in the air. "Whatever. I've got a ton of visits today."

He scoots off the bed and rolls his shoulders to settle his jacket before zipping it up.

"Wait," I call as he heads toward his helmet.

"You've got one more shot, Gil. One last time to make things right," he says. "When you fail . . ."

"I'll come without a problem," I quickly answer, grasping onto whatever I can to try for another shot at keeping Sara alive and me here with her.

He smiles. This time it is a relentless, evil smile. "Yes, you will," he says as he opens the bedroom door. "She's a beautiful woman, Gil," he tells me as he glances over his shoulder. "Too bad you didn't recognize what a lucky man you were. Well, I'll be seeing you soon."

I don't watch him leave nor hear the door close. Instead I stare at Sara's back and jump slightly when the alarm goes off.

10:30pm. That was the longest minute ever.

She stirs, silences the alarm and slowly stretches before sitting up.

"Mornin'," I say.

Her head whips around and I barely get a glimpse of surprise before she's out of the bed and heading for the bathroom.

Now that I know this is my very last chance, I have to admit that I'm stumped and worried. I'm not sure what to say to get through to her. I love you, I love you, I love you probably wouldn't cut it. Maybe I shouldn't say anything. Maybe I should just stay near her, watch her, take in all that is Sara to keep with me always. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll fill my heart to bursting with her presence and my remembered feel of her skin, the smell of her hair, her smile that always brought one to my face.

She will be my eternity where I'm going. She will be all I have to take with me. I just wish she knew that, really knew that and believed it. That would last me forever.

I dress before she gets out of the bathroom and offer to drive her in. Hesitantly, she agrees and, silently, we head in. When I pull to a stop and turn to tell her I love her, she's already out of the car.

There are only three hours left.

I'll never be able to speak to her again; I'll never be able to tell her how much she means to me; I'll never feel her hands upon me or her breath upon my skin; I'll never hear her moan in pleasure or laugh at something I've said. I'll never have any of that ever again. Maybe it was better to keep trying to correct this. At least I'd get to see her every day even if, at the end of that day, I'd watch her die.

I shake my head. I can't watch that anymore. I just can't.

Locking the car I go inside the Lab and head down to the morgue to peek through the door. There she is, deep in conversation with Al and I leave her alone. 'I love you' I breathe into the door then step away to hide when she comes out. I follow her up the corridor and watch from a distance because that's all I ever did before we got together – watch and wait and hope that magically all would be as it was.

Is that what I really want? To be a specter haunting her footsteps?

I clench my jaw. Not this time.

Hurrying after her, I open the double doors . . . and I'm at the scene.

Wait, wait! This isn't fair! I still had two hours. The bastard's cheated me out of my time, my last precious bits of time.

I seethe then close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling the rain soak through my clothes.

This is it.

This is the last time I'll ever have with her.

I need to say everything. I need to, for want of a better word, let her see my soul before it's snatched up by its new owner.

Car doors shut behind me. Nick and Warrick walk past and give me a nod. I can hear her booted feet slap down into the fast growing puddles as she nears.

I need to start now.

"Sara," I say as she walks past. "Please wait," I add when she doesn't stop.

That seems to work. She doesn't turn just stops. I take in another deep breath.

"I love you." She stiffens. "I love you more than even I know, more than I understand. You are my heart and I find it difficult not to think of you as being by my side forever."

She turns then and it prompts me to continue.

"You've become my reason for waking each day, for taking the next breath and the next. Your smile is mine alone and your eyes tell me all I need to keep on living. I don't want to be without you by my side, ever. And I don't want to be the reason you fly from it. I couldn't bear it and I don't ever want to find out if I can."

She cocks her head. "Why couldn't you tell me all this before?" she asks.

I take a small step forward, trying to ignore the fact that she's never spoken to me here, in this place, at this time. "Because I was, am scared. You frighten me."

A puzzled frown crosses her face. "How?"

I look longingly into her dark eyes. "There are many reasons."

Her jaw clenches and her voice is hard. "Tell me one."

I bite at my lower lip. "I find it hard to breathe around you. You intoxicate me to the point of distraction. I've-I've never felt like that before and I don't know how to . . . I feel out of control when that happens. But the fear of losing you makes me want to learn."

"And what of you?" she asks. "When will you trust me enough to tell me about you?"

I look down at my fidgeting hands. "You mean about my heart?"

"Is there anything else?" she asks and I quickly look up at the urgency in her voice.

"No, no there's nothing else like that," I try to assure her. She crosses arms over her chest. I sigh. "I'd been experiencing some chest pains and wanted to get it checked out before I told you. I didn't want to scare you . . ."

"But you did," she answers and I grimace.

"The doctor wasn't supposed to call me at home."

"But he did and, just because the outcome is manageable, doesn't mean I can be left out of the loop."

"I was trying to . . ."

"No, Gil," she says, sending a pointed glare my way which silences me quickly. "I don't ever want you going through anything like your ear surgery alone ever again. Even though we weren't together then, it still hurt that you didn't let me know."

"I thought I might go deaf. It would've changed everything. I couldn't let you too close for fear of dragging you down with me."

She steps closer. "Why would it have changed everything?"

"Why?" My voice is shrill and I try to calm myself. "My entire life would've changed. There was a possibility that I would not have been able to keep my job and, most assuredly, field work would've been out. In fact I probably would not have been able to teach, or conduct seminars, or do much of anything I like to do."

"Again I ask why?"

I stare at her. "I would've been deaf."

"But you still would've had me, Gil. Just like you would've still had me if there was something seriously wrong with your heart."

She steps toward me again and I back away startling her. "This is why I didn't, don't say anything."

"What are you talking about?"

"This. You. You're young, Sara. You have a life ahead of you. Mine is half over. Why would you want to saddle yourself with me, with an old grump who might just drop dead from a heart attack? It's no life for you."

"Oh, so now you're deciding what's better for me?" she says and I swallow at the angry look on her face. "How dare you decide anything for me when it comes to who I love and who I want to spend my life with. It's my decision, mine. Not yours. And I choose you, Gil. Only you."

I stare at her eyes for they've truly been the windows through which I've learned so much. She loves me. She still loves me even though she's mad at me. I suppose that shouldn't be an epiphany but it is. And it took the end of my days to discover what I should've known so long ago.

"I've read about it so often," I begin. "Heard people talk of it, but figured I'd never find it. Yet, here you are." She frowns. "_You_, Sara. _You_ are my other half, my soul mate. You make me a better man simply by believing in me, by wanting to help and holding my hand when I fear there's no one else who will. _You_ are what I've always wanted but didn't know I had until I lost it."

"Lost? What do you mean? I'm right here."

"Please say you'll always remember me fondly when I'm gone. Please remember the laughter and love that we shared. I'll always see those dark eyes that caught my heart the first time I saw you and never let me go every day since. Please give me that at least?"

"You're scaring me, Gil."

"I don't mean to," I say. "I just wanted you to know, really know, how much I love you."

She runs toward me then and I can't help but take her in my arms and kiss her, one last time, in front of God, the Devil, everyone. My arms wrap tightly about her so I can remember the feel of her when I'm no longer here. She is life, my life, my constant.

Shame on me for not acknowledging that sooner.

And then a cacophony of sound fills the air followed by a blast of wind and debris that smacks into us with a force strong enough to hurl us into the air. I take the brunt of it, pleased with myself that I'd managed to turn her away from the inevitable design that is Fate as I kissed her, her lips searing mine with memory. We land in the mud a fair distance away with a loud splat and roll a few times before coming to a stop against something solid.

Did I manage to stop this nonsense?

Was truly, fully speaking from the heart what will save her?

Or have I failed again?

No. She's breathing. I can feel her breath on my face as she calls my name.

She lives. Thank God, she lives.

So, he's decided to grant my wish – kill me so she won't have to worry that she drove me away.

Her life for mine.

Maybe there's more to him than meets the eye.

I'm just sorry she has to witness my death. But, it's beyond my control now. All I can do is look at her one last time, sear that face into my dreams and let the darkness take me to a place that'll be a whole lot hotter than Vegas.

**CSICSICSI**

I'm aware of a grayness surrounding me, growing lighter by the minute. I doubt I'll be able to keep my eyes closed for very long. My own curiosity will get the better of me. He looked different maybe Hell will, too. I foresee a government type building with row upon row of desks, suited souls chained to desks typing the same thing over and over again instead of halls filled with flames.

What's that? I heard . . . Beeping. It sounds like a steady beeping.

Like lead they are, my eyelids, as if plastered together. Wanting to raise my hand to rub at them is far easier than doing. Everything is numb. I need to make myself heard. I need to know what's going on. Managing a breath from somewhere, I let it trip across by tongue and hope there's someone near to hear it.

". . . ara . . ."

Hasty footsteps. That's what it sounds like moving across the floor. There's a change in the air as if a door has opened then a shout in the distance. It vaguely sounds like Greg. Why would Greg be in H . . .

"Gil? Gil, I'm here," comes at me.

Sara?

"Baby, can you hear me?"

Oh, oh yes I can.

"I'm right here, Gil. Can you feel this?"

Your holding my hand. I can feel it.

"Tell me you can feel this, please."

I can. Yes, I can.

"Baby, please open your eyes. Please see me."

I want to. I so desperately want to but they won't open. Christ! Is this his idea of a joke? Is this what his torture will be? Feeling this soul rending desperation and not being able to fulfill the need to vanquish it?

THIS IS AGONY!

"I love you, Gil."

She's still there.

"I love you so much. You saved me. You saved me from the explosion. I would've died if I'd kept walking. But you stopped me and made me listen. I heard all your words, Gil. They filled me with what I needed. You. I needed all of you to trust me enough to tell me your fears, tell me what you needed from me to make you whole. That's all I really wanted."

And I give it all and more to you, honey.

"You've made me feel loved. I only ever wanted to give that back to you. Don't let this be the last time I get to tell you how much I love you. Fight whatever is trying to take you from me."

I'm trying.

"Please come back to me. Please tell me you'll always be by my side. Let me hear you say that, Gil. Please tell me that."

She's begging. I never wanted her to beg. She's done nothing to beg me for. That's my job to beg her forgiveness. And now, when I have the chance, my body is betraying me.

_ 'I love you. Those words have a power far greater than I have.'_

Those words, his words, rattle through my brain and I latch onto them. Repeating them I find strength and the numbness slowly begins to recede from my arm, my hand. Ever so slowly I curl my fingers about her hand and hear a quick intake of breath.

"Gil?"

My next goal is to open my eyes. I need to drink in the sight of her. And it happens, her blurred face slowly coming into focus between lashes. I wince at the cuts and bruises scattered across her fair skin then settle on her glistening eyes, those same eyes I fell into many years before.

A tremulous smile comes my way. "Hey," she whispers, a slow smile emerging.

". . . s . . . ara . . ." I manage across a dry throat, wisps of pain slowly surfacing throughout my body.

"I'm here, baby. I'll always be here."

She kisses the palm of my hand then holds it to her cheek. I can feel the warmth of her skin. She feels so real, so very, very real.

I'm confused.

None of this has happened before. I've never awakened in a hospital. Always my eyes have opened to my bedroom with her still angry at me.

Could it be this is over?

Did I beat him at his own game?

". . . hey . . ." is all I can muster.

Her smile brightens. It's as if light has poured into me.

"It's me."

I have to say more. I need to know. ". . . w-what . . . day . . ."

"Day? Ah, Thursday. It's Thursday," she answers and I try to shake my head. "You mean the date?" she asks and I blink. "It's the 1st, May 1st." I frown. "You've been unconscious for eight days."

Eight days?

"The doctors weren't sure . . ." She's trembling. "They lost you, Gil, for a time. We didn't . . . I didn't know if you'd come back to me. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to say what I needed to say to you."

I died. I really did die.

So, was all of this just a near death experience? Was it all in my head? Or was I actually given a second chance? Well, really more like 286 chances.

Does it matter?

"Gil? Baby?"

I focus on her. Tears cloud my eyes and I blink to clear them, trying to curl my fingers against her cheek.

". . . been so . . . long," I mumble, my strength all but gone after using up so much just to see her. ". . . m-missed you."

Her brow furrows and I haven't the strength to explain. Besides, I wouldn't believe me so why should she.

". . . hold me," I ask. She does and I bury my face in her neck.

The warmth of her presence washes across the rough edges of my battered psyche. I can't help the cries that rise from within when I feel her pulse against my skin, hear her words of comfort, take in the remembered scent of her hair. It calms me, relaxes me and I feel myself drifting. I don't fight it and let myself go wondering what I will behold the next time I wake.

**CSICSICSI**

A loud noise bounces about the darkness that surrounds me. It's a comforting darkness this time, not heavy and deadening. But I can't stay here. I must confront what's waiting for me no matter what it is.

Slowly, I open my eyes. The lights are out and it's hard to see but there's something beside me. Raising a shaky hand I touch the object then panic.

God, oh, God no! It's happening again.

My breath comes quick and hard; I'm wheezing, my heart is beating so fast I think it'll explode and I squeeze shut my eyes. Soon there is movement, a light goes on, then there's a hand on my arm and a voice in my ear.

"Baby, it's all right." I shake my head. "Gil, it's okay. You're safe." Hands grab either side of my face. "Open your eyes, Gil, and look at me."

I do as she asks and she gasps, no doubt seeing the fear there.

"What's wrong?"

"I can't . . . I can't go through this again."

"Go through what again?"

I shake my head and shut my eyes. "Just shoot me now."

"Gil! Look at me!" She shakes me a little and my eyes pop open. "I will not shoot you. Everything's going to be all right."

"Do you need anything, Sara?" comes a voice from the door.

"He's having some sort of panic attack," Sara answers.

"I'll get something," she answers then disappears.

"Who . . ?"

"That's Brenda, your night nurse."

I frown. "Nurse?"

"Yeah. They sort of come with the hospital room," she says with a shrug.

My frown deepens. "H-hospital?"

"Yes. Do you remember what happened?"

Hospital. I'm still in the hospital.

"I'm . . . I'm not at home?"

"No. You're in the hospital," she tells me.

"What's the date?" I ask. Please be May 1st. Please be May 1st.

"It's May 3rd."

May 3rd.

"The 3rd?"

"You were in and out of it yesterday," she confirms.

"So, I-I'm awake?" I ask. Seems like a perfectly good question despite her worried look.

"Yes, you are definitely awake. Although I'm pretty sure you've been having some really weird dreams."

I crinkle my brow. "Oh?"

"You kept mumbling something about 286 days and a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a really long ass contract." She runs her hand through my hair. "But then I attributed that to being nearly blown up and some really good drugs."

She smiles then and I really look at her. She's pale. I reach up and gently touch the bandages on her face, grimacing at the memory of what put them there.

"I'm all right, Gil," she assures me and I return my gaze to her dark eyes.

Maybe it was a dream. All of it except for the last time, the time I got it right.

I smile at her and my heart slows. "I'm in the hospital and it's May 3rd," I state before pulling her back down to hold her close, not paying any attention to the wicked arcs of pain shooting through me.

And then I stiffen when I catch movement by the door and it's not Brenda.

Damnit! He's standing there. It happened. All of it happened.

I grind my teeth together and narrow my eyes.

I hope you're listening, Luce. I'm not going. Not when I've finally done the right thing. And to hell with your contract. I will fight you every step of the way. I'll not go out with a whimper but a shout of defiance that will ring in your ears for all time.

I'm confident despite the fact that I actually have no say in the matter. But then he does something that turns my confidence to puzzlement.

Placing two fingers to his forehead, he gives me a salute, pulls the parchment from his jacket and tosses it into the air. It fizzles from bottom to top and disappears. 'Maybe next time' floats into my ears as he smiles then slips through the door.

He's letting me off the hook.

Why?

Shit, Gil, don't question such things.

It's over. It's really over.

I start to shake. Sara pushes herself up and out of my trembling arms, only to see me smiling at her, tears trailing down my face. I even laugh a bit before kissing her soundly.

"Gil?" she says after I let her up for air.

"Forever is as long as I'll stay," I say. "Not a day more."

Her tears come then and she kisses me and I kiss back, reveling in the fact that my ordeal is over. My life can now start again. Those 286 days are a horrible memory of a time that no longer exists. And I'll tell her about it. I'll make her listen to how my fears nearly did us both in. And if she thinks I'm crazy so be it. I'm thinking she won't. Well, not very much, anyway.

My eyes are growing heavy. Brenda must've slipped something into my IV when I was busy staring at Sara. That's okay. At least I can fall asleep with her face in my mind's eye and the knowledge that, when I wake again, it'll be May 4th and Sara will be alive and holding my hand and I'll have everything I've ever wanted.

"Go to sleep, my love," she whispers wiping away my tears.

And I close my eyes as she settles next to me, feeling myself start to drift then quickly bring myself back. I have something to say and I need to say it now.

"I love you, Sara."

She kisses my cheek and leans close to my ear. "I love you, too, Gil."

She loves me. I grin.

Those three words, those three little words of such great power, beat the Devil at his own game and saved me, saved us. I hold Sara tighter.

Now here's an eternity that looks pretty good to me.

* * *

_Groundhog Day (1993) starring Bill Murray_

_Son of the Morning and Great Dragon are other names for the Devil_

* * *

_Happy times in the Grissom/Sara household again! Yippee! _

_I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. Please review if you can. You know how much I love reviews. :-)_


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